


A Deal with a Vampire

by Caprikat



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: 1800s, B/B - Freeform, BL, Deal, Gay, Intersex, Legends, Love/Hate, M/M, Orphan - Freeform, Other, Prostitute, Saving, Slash, Vampire/Human, Vampires, Yaoi, boylove, idkhowmanychapters, m/m - Freeform, myths, pleaseread, rich/poor, selfdoubt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprikat/pseuds/Caprikat
Summary: Trapped in brothel, Sieva lives everyday in Hell. Until one day, an unusual customer offers him a deal of a life time.





	A Deal with a Vampire

The cottage was of decent size; it fitted no more than five rooms, a kitchen, and two bathrooms. It appeared like any other any other place in Baribel, inconspicuous, simple but, inside the air was putrid. The stench was everlasting. It was an undeniable fact, despite the best efforts from cleaning, that the scent would ever leave.

Customer after customer, man after man, the foul odor would become exacerbated. No matter how hard Sieva scrubbed at his pallid skin, the smell would still linger as if to haunt him, remind him that there was no life for him but as a filthy whore. 

He stared, wide eyes looking back at him. They were dark, pits of blackness that invaded the space, a void of nothingness that occupied themselves on his blank face. Sieva could not recall a time he did not look like this—this, ugly sunken version of himself, was truly the only him he had seen. The sight of was something truly horrifying, sickening to him, and how much he wish he could change it always ended up in vain. He hated himself, and he wanted to greet death with open arms, but could not. Every time he had tried to kill himself, somehow his body had managed to survive, leaving a mark behind as a memoir of his attempt. He felt like God was punishing him for unspoken sins, sins he could not remember, sins—perhaps—of a past life.

A soft rap on his door had interrupted his bathing. 

Miserably, he stood up from the small, metallic basin. His feet were cold, and soaked as they made contact with the wood floor. Droplets of water made there way down his body, perfusing on the floors. Despite this, he did not clean it up. Instead, he simply grabbed his linen bath robe, and made his way to the door, opening it.

Sieva tightly crossed his hands over his chest, and shut his legs as well. It was odd, completely unnaturally, and it had looked like he had froze that way. Truthfully, it was a poor tactic that the brothel utilized to make all their whores look virginal and demure, and it would have appeared more tantalizing, if it were not for his stoic expression and off posture; it belied the fact that the Sieva was not a virgin, but just another prostitute looking for payment.

Lifting up one of his arms, Sieva ungainly opened the palm of his hand, and demanded money. He did not look at the man's face—he rarely ever did, to him they were all the same filth that came and went—but instead, stared at his nicely pressed attire on his huge body. 

It was odd, and for a slight second he had hoped that the stranger in his view would be different, but he quickly dismissed the thought, and grabbed the money from his gloved hand. He shoved it into his tiny breast pocket, then took his larger hand in his and lead him to his bed.

"Come here," Sieva whispered quietly, tired and still wet from the bath. His fingers slowly made their way to pull back the robe, but a gloved hand had suddenly appeared in his face, 

"I did not come for such matters," the stranger spoke, his voice surprisingly kind sounding from such a large man. It was deep, husky, and held an compelling timbre to it that Sieva had never heard before. 

Hesitantly, the boy peered up at the man, truly curious to see what he looked like. 

The man was handsome, much more handsome than his usual clients. He was unusually pale. His skin was cold like marble, dark amber eyes hardened, and his hair was a rich black. Sieva had stifled a breath for a moment, confused as to why someone of such standing was here. Someone like him seemed to have better things to do than to consult with a sex worker like him.

"I have a proposition for you. How would you like to get out of this hell hole?"

Sieva's ears perked up to this with earnest excitement, but he still was skeptical of the man. "What do you want? If not sex, I'm afraid there's nothing more I can give, Mr—"

"A, just Mr.A for now. And rest assured, sweetheart, you have more worth than you know." The man then paused, and smiled, revealing his sharp fangs. "Your blood is all I require."

Sieva's heart dropped, and in that instant he felt that he made a grave error, one that  could cost him his life; he had just invited a vampire into his room, and yet—he paused, reevaluating the situation. Isn't this what he wanted? To die? What was there to be afraid of ? Nothing, there was nothing to lose.

"And if I don't agree, then what?" Sieva scoffed, and turned his head, staring into the man's eyes.

"Well, then, let's just say you'll live the rest of your short life in this dump. After all, I'm not the only one after you."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Go to your window, and look outside."

He did as instructed, and peered outside. There were men, loads of them, standing outside the place. Each and everyone of them had eyes gleaming bright red, and their lips were chapped, bite marks scattered on them. They looked like a pack of starving, desperate wolves who were practically foaming at the mouth. 

He gulped.

"Newborns, they smell you," Mr. A commented. "Once they get inside darling, things won't be so pretty." 

Sieva gave him a long, hard stare. He was contemplating whether or not he should vehemently scream "fuck you," to the man, or burst out in tears, crying. One second ago he was no more than some low-life skank, and now it seemed that everyone wanted him—just, not in a good way. There was no more time to think, soon, those bloodsuckers would come in, and he would be horribly mauled to death. It was either one of two options: killed by this stranger here, or violently murdered by many.

So, he did the thing he saw fit, and made a deal with the man.

"I'm not saying that I fucking trust you," he spat, then paused for a moment, admitting defeat, "but, I guess that I have no choice."

"Great—"

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with, bloodsucker."

"I see that this dump has taught you some manners," Mr. A remarked sarcastically, and Sieva laughed, feeling rather scorned by his comment. 

But as if his duty, he slid down the robe from his shoulder, and presented it to the bloodsucker. The man then walked to him, slow, and steadily, his hands making their way to touch his neck. Tracing one jagged finger along Sieva's jugular, he poked the spot he preferred. "Here. I'll do it here." 

The canines of the vampire elongated, till they were perfectly full. He then bit down hard into the soft, flesh, earning a loud, sordid moan from Sieva. "Shit," he gasped, tugging at Mr. A's suit, almost ripping it off of him. The pain was there—in fact the sensation was something akin to his skin being lit on fire—but nevertheless there was also a feeling of intense pleasure that he had never felt before. Sieva was convinced that he wanted more—no, he needed more, he needed this to survive. The pleasure was growing more the man left his teeth sunken into his skin, and quickly he could feel himself go weak, susceptible to anything the stranger wanted. 

Soon enough, he could not even keep his eyes open. The lids of his eyes were fluttering, his consciousness leaving.

He had passed out.


End file.
